


Domestic Bliss (is not what we have)

by forthosebelow



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Daddy Phil, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2320292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthosebelow/pseuds/forthosebelow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New York, apartment, sex, Clint’s failed attempts at facial hair, health fads, takeout, and a draw of takeout menus</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Bliss (is not what we have)

**Author's Note:**

> This is happening in that magical little world where Joss Whedon doesn't shit on the things we love.

“Where the fuck is the remote?” Clint grumbled from the living room, the sound carrying to the bedroom where Phil was throwing on a pair of sweats while Clint queued up the movie-heaven knows what Clint was unpredictable when it came to his movie choices-and they waited for the delivery guy to get there. “Did you check under the couch or somewhere in the kitchen?” Their apartment was a mess, neither was home often enough to keep it as neat and tidy as Coulson-and Clint by extension- would have preferred. “Yes I checked under the couch and why the hell would be in the kitchen?” Because they both had a terrible habit of forgetting to put things back in the proper place, Phil thought. Clint was still scouring the area in front of the television when Phil walked into the kitchen, opened up the draw by the fridge that was full of takeout menus, the junk draw full of half used now dried up bottles of super glue and duct tape, and finally the silver wear draw where the remote was half buried by their rarely used spoons.

“I got the remote.” Clint grinned and pushed himself off his knees to sit back on the couch. “Where was it?”  
“With the spoons.” There was a general slightly displeased muttering coming from Coulson’s should be husband if they ever found the time to sign some paperwork that wasn’t for S.H.E.I.LD., as the doorbell rang and Phil paid for the large cheese, half with mushrooms and onions, pizza. Paper towels were ripped and soda cans cracked and the Stark Trek-the new one- theme started playing. They spent the first scene not eating but marveling at how much Kirk’s dad looked like Thor if he shaved off his beard and cut his hair and lost a few years and some muscle mass. The next scene they started eating and Clint sang along with The Beastie Boys and complaining about Phil’s mushrooms and onions sneaking onto his side of the pizza. Pizza should just be cheese and sauce and bread in Clint’s opinion.

The snuggled through the last half, mouthing along the Enterprises’ mission statement. “To boldly go where no one has gone before.” The leftover pizza was put in the fridge and Clint through the trash away from halfway across the room, ignoring Phil’s complaints about the crumbs. Clint asked if Kirk and Spock were ever going to get together as they brushed their teeth but it was garbled by the mouthful of toothpaste and come out sounding more like, “Ki- ‘n sock, go in tether, might?” Phil rinsed out his mouth, “I don’t know. I like Uhura, her and Spock are good together.” 

They made out lazily on the bed for a while, all contact above the waist, not wanting things to go too far. They had all weekend, barring some unforeseen complication at S.H.E.I.L.D., Fury had promised, a very loose term, that Agents Coulson and Barton would not be called in. Clint rolled over first and turned off the table lamp on his side before rolling back over and pillowing his head on Phil’s chest, tracing the scar there for a minute while he fell asleep. Phil picked up the book off his nightstand to start reading, again for the millionth time The Lord of Rings.

The first time Coulson leaned up to peer over his boyfriend’s shoulder at the clock, he groaned, it was the weekend, he was supposed to sleep in, not wake up before the alarm would have gone off to get to work in time. So spooned back around Clint he and went back to sleep. The second time it happened, he laughed because of course it was only twenty minutes later. Clint was the first one up and already in the shower by the time Phil stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee and back to the en suit bathroom to join the shower already in progress. They jerked each other off and let the water wash their come down the drain. “Love you, Phil.”  
“Love you too.”

Clint made scrambled eggs with cheese to go with their coffee, looking slightly shocked when Phil only had one cup. “So is there a reason you didn’t shave this morning?” Phil asked when about half his eggs were eaten. “I’m trying something new. How do you think I would look with a beard?”  
“What kind? Duck Dynasty, Thor, Stark’s, that mutant guy with the claws?”  
“Wolverine.”  
“Yes him.” Clint ate the rest of Phil’s eggs before responding. “I dunno. Something between Tony’s and Wolverine’s?” All the answer he received was a skeptical glance before Coulson got up to do the dishes. 

The rest of the morning was spent at the grocery store. Clint would put packaged cookies in the cart and Phil would take them out as Clint read to him from the latest celebrity gossip magazine. “Oooo, look, I’m in here!” Coulson stopped to scan the picture. “Where?” A defiant finger was stabbed to the bottom left corner of the picture, “That’s my boot, no one else in the Avengers where boots like that.”   
“The article’s talking about Captain America and Iron Man having a love child.” Clint pouted. “You’re right honey, you’re in the picture.”

Clint went to Natasha’s in the afternoon to help her move furniture around so that next time she had Steve over everything would be off and she could laugh about his confusion. It was also because there was a large bloodstain of unknown origin that needed to be covered before anyone could question it. Like Steve or any random S.H.E.I.L.D. agent who had heard too many stories of the Black Widow’s wrath. Phil went home and tried to tidy up and learning that he had a lot more socks than he remembered ever buying. All of his Captain America collector’s items (“No Clint, they are not toys”) got dusted along with all the cookbooks Natasha had given them when they had first move in together. They had only opened one of them once and it had ended with the fire department getting called because hot oil and Clint Barton do not mix.

“What the fuck is this?” Clint exclaimed, staring down at the plate Phil had set before him when got home around supper time. “Must you use that word so often? It’s a soy burger. We both need to start eating a little healthier and I thought this was a nice place to start.” Clint rolled his eyes at the happy humming noises Coulson was making as he ate his fake burger. He knew Phil would keep arguing with him until Clint at least tried the food. As soon as the first bite passed his lips he reached the bottle of ketchup. It still tasted disgusting.

“Daddy…” Clint whined, “This is so gross.” He did that with the small hope that this game they sometimes played would get him out of eating his hamburger. “Well baby I need you to eat least half of it.” Clint pouted but obeyed because Phil was using his daddy voice and it was hard to ignore. Clint did it very slowly though, taking a lot of time between bites, nibbling to make sure he ate no more than exactly half. Phil was done long before he was.

When the disgusting half was gone Clint pushed his plate far into the middle of the table, ignoring Phil’s sigh as he gathered the dishes and went to the kitchen. Every so often Phil would pull the eating healthy shit again and get on a health kick. Clint would try to lie low until the whole thing blew over and Coulson had his packaged powdered donates in one hand and his heavily caffeinated coffee in the other. He got up to shoo Phil away from the dishes. He had cooked after all.

“Hey, Love.” Clint looked up from finishing the dishes as Phil slid arms around his waist. “Yes?” the arms around his middle tightened by a fraction. “Hm, no that’s not going to work little boy.” Clint smiled hoping that Phil-now Daddy- couldn’t see it. “Sorry, sir. Yes Daddy?” Phil nuzzled into his neck for a moment, “How about when you’re done doing the dishes, you come to the bedroom so we can have a conversation about your behavior earlier.” It was phrased like a question but Clint knew it was anything but. “Yes sir.”

Clint dried the last few plates and his hands before following his boyfriend into their room. He had considered drying the dishes as slowly as he could to belay the punishment he knew was coming. He had wanted to play “daddy” earlier, so Phil was going to let him. Phil was waiting for him, sitting on his side of the bed. Coulson’s side had been determined on the very first night Clint had spent at Phil’s old apartment. It had been in the middle of Clint trying desperately to unbutton Phil’s pants, that Coulson had stopped sucking a hickey onto Clint’s collarbone and informed him that he slept on the right side of the bed and had no intention of changing that. Clint had complied pretty easily.

Phil sat there now, patting the spot next to him, “Why did you think it was a good idea to brat out at supper?” Clint shrugged as he sat down. “That’s what I thought. I know it wasn’t the fanciest of meals but you could have been at least a little appreciative.” Clint couldn’t tell if this was daddy Phil or regular Phil. “I’m sorry.” And he meant it. “Thank you for apologizing but you still were a brat and that’s not okay. So, when we are with this conversation you will be getting a spanking,” then Clint could see the distinction, Phil was in full daddy mode. “Do you want to know why I think you acted out?” Coulson asked as Clint tried not to pout about the upcoming spanking, he did manage to grunt in response. “Because we haven’t had the time to do this in a while and you’re all wound up. I’m so sorry that we haven’t.” and plain old regular Phil was back for a minute, overly concerned and apologizing for things he had no control over. “I’m fine, Phil. And I really am sorry.”

“I know. But please let me do this, let me take care of you.” The ‘I need this just as much as you do’ was implied. “Of course, Phil.” The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately. Clint felt smaller as the man he loved most in the world grew in his eyes. “I love you,” they kissed for moment, “Love you too baby boy. Now pants and underwear off.” The spanking wasn’t gently, turning his ass a deep shade of red that Phil’s white handprints looked nice on, but not as harsh as other’s Clint had received. “’m proud of you.” Phil murmured as he helped sit Clint up, “Now how about a bath?”

The bathtub was too small for the both of them, barley big enough for Clint to sit comfortably in it after the tub had filled and he had convinced-begged really-Phil to put   
bubbles in it. Phil sat on the lip of it, pants off and feet lost among the bubbles, as Clint soaked and talked about Natasha, enjoying the soreness of his ass whenever he slid against the cold, plastic bottom. “Daddy?” he asked as Phil washed his hair latter on, droplets of water clinging the scruff on his jaw. Phil hmmed in response, “Are you gonna fuck me later?” and that question would never get old. It may not be always phrased exactly like that but when Clint dropped into that little boy mindset and asked about his daddy doing things to him, it made Phil melt. Maybe it made him dirty for feeling so turned on and protective, for all at once wanting nothing more than to cherish the man-boy-in front of him and fuck him with all that he was worth. It might have or might not have. He didn’t really care either way. “Of course darling. Going to make you feel so good.”

Phil stood and removed his underwear and thin t-shirt before helping Clint out of the bathtub and drying him off. Swatting his still red bottom towards the bedroom. The recent cleaning the apartment had gotten had made it much easier for Phil to find the lube, usually it was a game of look under the bed, the pillows, beside the chair in the corner (Phil shivered at that memory), or maybe it was in the bathroom? Today it was open up the draw on the bed side table and pull it out. Clint was flat on his back, arms tucked beneath his head, staring at the ceiling with a soft smile turning up the corners of his mouth. Coulson couldn’t wait to ravish him. “Spread your legs a little for me,” he said crawling onto the bed besides his boyfriend. Clint sat up, his smile spreading, “Lemme do it, Daddy,” making grabby hands for the bottle of slick. “Okay, but you’ve got to be careful, don’t want you getting hurt.”  
“I’ll be good.” 

Clint pushed Phil so he sitting up against the headboard before wiggling around to where his ass was before his daddy and he could push one slicked up finger inside himself. He thrust the finger inside a few times and twisting it before pulling it all the way out and adding another. Coulson was enraptured, he wouldn’t have been able to look away from the gorgeous mess before him, that was trying to spread his fingers into a v with all that he was worth, making sinful noises all the while. By time Clint added a third digit, Phil realized he had never been so jealous of another person’s hand before. “You good baby?” Clint whined, “Want your cock, Daddy.”

“Ask nicely, like a good boy.” Another whine escaped Clint’s mouth before he could answer, “Please may I have your cock in my fuck hole Daddy? I’mma be good boy, promise.” The desperation in his voice was just a little bit heart breaking. “I know you’re a good boy, Clint. You’re so good for your Daddy.” He got Clint to lay down on his back so he could watch his face, his beautiful eyes as he thrust slowly into him. The pace was slow at first, dragging out the ending they both knew was coming. As Coulson felt himself about to go over the edge listening to Clint’s constant mantra of daddy, please, and harder, he leaned down to suck one of Clint’s nipples into his mouth that awarded him a desperate little squeal from the man writhing below him. “Daddy, Daddy, can I come please?”  
“Of course you can darling.”

Clint came quietly, facing squishing up as come painted his stomach and Phil’s chest. Phil was moments behind him, burring himself deep and letting his come settle there. He laid down next to his Clint loving the smell of sex in the air and the way Clint breathed. Watching as the man he loved more than anything, his best friend, drew swirls through the drying come on his stomach. Beside where the lube had been in the drawer was a small box and Coulson’s fingers had never fumbled the way the way they did as he reached for it. Clint was looking up at him with big eyes as he settle himself back on the bed. “Clint?”  
“Yes Daddy?”  
“No, just Phil now.” Clint nodded. “Clint will you marry me?” For a second Phil thought he would say no because his mouth dropped open and he looked so surprised. “Yes. Of course.” Clint finally answered all in one breath, “Of course I’ll marry you.” And everything was perfect if just for that one moment.

The feeling of scruff against his chest was a little unnerving as Phil woke up the next morning. By the sound of Clint’s breathing, he could tell his soon to be husband was awake as well. “You need to shave.”  
“Am I going to be Mr. Coulson too? Clint asked twisting the new, simple silver ring around his finger. “If you want to be. I wouldn’t mind-- I would like you to be.” Clint’s beard scratched as he looked up so they could exchange smiles. “I’ll shave for the wedding.” Coulson laughed, “Let’s get married today than.”  
“Tasha would kill me and Pepper would kill you if they didn’t have some say in the wedding planning.”

For the first time Phil realized there was going to be a wedding. The girls were going to drive him into insanity. Between Pepper, Nat, Maria, Skye, Simmons, even May, and god forbid Darcy Lewis ever finds out about the wedding, there would be too many everythings and Pepper would get Tony to fund it… Phil couldn’t suppress his shudder. “It’s gonna be simple, Phil. No matter what they ladies want.”  
“But they can be so convincing and overwhelming.”  
“As long as it’s coming from Stark’s bank account and there is not an overabundance of pink, they can do what they please.” Coulson fingered combed through Clint’s hair for a minute. “Clint Barton I do believe you are the love of my life.”  
“Guess that’s why we’re getting hitched.” Phil laughed deep from his belly. Dragging himself out from under Clint, he placed a quick kiss on his lips, “I’m going to go start breakfast. I have some new wheat bread I would like to see how it toasts.” Clint’s groan followed him to the kitchen.


End file.
